Kristen Proby

“No, no sign of your Aunt Millie, but your Uncle Cyrus wants to know why you haven’t wound

“No, no sign of your Aunt Millie, but your Uncle Cyrus wants to know why you haven’t wound

Jojoba and melaleuca oils,” she mutters, making

“There’s my superstar.” I squeal and leap up and into his arms, and Dec squeezes me tight and turns a circle in the middle of the wide office. He finally sets me on my feet, cups my face in his hands, and kisses me square on the mouth, then hugs me again, more gently this time. “You okay?” he whispers in my ear.

“Yeah, I’m not really into redheads with freckles myself. But the last time I saw her, she had a sexy little body,” Beau continues, speaking to Ben, who nods thoughtfully.

I’m going to kill them both.

With my bare hands.

“When did you see her?”

“During one of my trips to visit Dec and Van at college.” Beau strips out of his own shirt and tosses it away.

Why does everyone call her pretty? Can’t they see that she’s unbelievable?

I applaud with the rest of the crowd, and then Declan begins to strum the guitar. “Remember this one?” he asks her.

“You might want to choose a different outfit,” he says, as he gestures to my clothes. “I would hate to have to beat every man we walk past into the sidewalk for looking at you.”

I wave him off and turn to walk into my bedroom, but hear him mutter, “Although, you look amazing in anything you wear.”

“Why did that freak you out?”

He shrugs. “She was upsetting you.”

She was freaking me out.

“I’m fine,” I repeat stubbornly. He simply smirks and kisses my forehead.

And that’s exactly what it is: I crave her. Her body, her thoughts, her smile.

All of her.

She’s made parts of me come alive that have been long dead, and I’m not sure if I can trust this yearning in my gut, yet I can’t stop it.

I freeze at the sound of her voice, then feel my hands clench into fists and my eyes narrow when Kate and Declan walk into the kitchen, his arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist, leaning into each other and laughing their fucking asses off. It’s the leaning that pisses me off the most. They’re way too cozy for my comfort level.

What is she doing here?

“Kate!” Mama exclaims, and hurries around the kitchen counter to pull Kate in for a hug. “Ah, dawlin’, it’s been too long since I laid eyes on you.”